Grand Attrition - One Man Rebellion
by Chronic Champ
Summary: A mix of Hunger Games world and Avatar: Last Airbender characters. Sokka, a rebellious teenager hailing from District 9, is selected to compete in the Grand Attrition - a death-match pitting teenagers against each other until one survivor emerges. Lu Ten, the rightful heir to the throne, is also thrown into the violence. The Capitol is showing weakness. Will it stand or fall?
1. Blood is Thicker Than Water

**Hello all. This is my first Fanfic and it's inspired by The Black Games by Mrs Pettyfer. Other inspiration for this book is my love for the universe in the Hunger Games books (although I despise Katniss and the piss poor love triangle between the equally poor-made characters) and the characters in the Last Airbender, especially Sokka. The light bulb went off in my head and put pen to paper, blending the two universes to the best of my ability. Constructive criticism is absolutely welcome.**

**Disclaimer: **Themes and ideas from the Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. The character and themes from Avatar: Last Airbender belong to Bryan Konietzko and Mike Dante DiMartino. I wish I had the imagination to create these rich universes.

The cover photo for the story belongs to Mandy Mo from

And without further ado...

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><p><span><strong>Blood is Thicker Than Water<strong>

**Sokka**

**District 9 - South Pole**

Waking up to a throbbing head and a churning stomach wasn't high up on Sokka's wish-list. Hung-over, most definitely hung-over. He loved the process of getting super drunk but despised the end result.

Opening his eyes, he saw the bright sunlight streaming in the small window which intensified the excruciating pain in his skull, and he quickly shut them again. It was the few months of the year in the Southern Water Tribe, located directly on the South Pole, that the sun shone all day and night, even though it was five o'clock in the morning. After several seconds, he groaned and massaged his temples when his gut willed itself into motion. Hurriedly swinging both legs over the side of the bed, he dashed over clothes strewn over the floor and objects sharp to the bare foot, barely making it to the toilet before he unwillingly heaved his stomach's contents out.

The cycle repeated itself for the next several minutes: nausea, vomit, flush, and repeat. Not trying to break his max limit on whiskey seemed like a better idea in hindsight. Considering he put his name in for the Reaping a record four hundred and thirty-seven times, it was fair to assume it would one of the last times to do heavy drinking before he was possibly shipped off to the Grand Attrition. The Grand Attrition was basically a death-match between teenagers from age twelve to eighteen as punishment for rebelling against the Capitol, which resulted in many casualties on both sides. Two tributes, male and female, where chosen from all twelve districts—Sokka belonging to District 9—and thrown into an arena where one survivor emerged as the Victor and the other twenty-three children were forever torn from their families. This inhumane selection was known as the Reaping, the day all teenagers feared for their lives. The next one was taking place the next day. Sokka was one of the few brave souls that put more than the required amount of ballots into the drawing, as each ballot supplied his family with miniscule amounts of food rations. Sokka couldn't comprehend how in any sense it was justified to sacrifice kids as repayment for an attack against the Capitol forty years in the past, yet grudgingly accepted the Reaping as part of life.

He wiped his foul-smelling lips on the back of his hand and rested his head on the toilet seat, which seemed unsanitary yet he wasn't in the state of mind to seriously care. Surprisingly, a comforting hand caressed his back. His sister, Katara, the ever gentle soul, cooed in his ear, "Just get it all out now. You'll feel hella better afterwards."

He obligingly grunted in response before releasing his bile into the toilet. Katara continually rubbed his back as his stomach clashed with him, lightly chuckling because this was the exact result she predicted when he went against her better judgment to not drink. Even to the most oblivious person, one could see the strong brother-sister bond between them; they held each other up in the toughest moments, such as their father's drunken tantrums or their mother's unexpected disappearance, which their father blamed them for. "I told you no to take so many shots… I told you so, Sokka. I told you so."

Pretty sure his gut was done expelling its contents, he sat back against the wall and let his chin fall to his chest. Eyes clothes, he blindly reached out for his sister and let his hand rest on her knee after feeling nothing but air. She scooted over to his side and wrapped her arm around his head, pulling him towards her and snuggling his head into the crook of his neck. "I know sis. I know…" Sokka said absently.

"Do you promise to slow down next time you go to the bar?"

"Not sure if there will be a next time. I put in a ballot like four hundred-some times." Katara sighed at his stupid idea that he must supply the family food; after all, he fed them better than most families were with the sea animals he illegally hunted. The penalty for hunting animals outside the Boundaries of District 9, or leaving the area all together, was execution. Yet he was selfless enough to risk his safety so that his abusive father and saint-like sister could eat well.

"I told you once and I'm going to tell you again, you're not required to get us extra rations. Dad has a job so we can have food and you hunt enough for the three of us already…" Katara scolded, always the filling the mother role in the family without an actual maternal presence.

"Well dad is too busy thinking about when his next drink will be to feed us." Sokka started to absent-mindedly stroke her knee as she smiled back amiably, proud of her older brother no matter how drunk he got or foolish he acted.

"I heard that you worthless little shit!" Hakoda, their father, said as he staggered to the door, one hand holding his beer and the other leaning against the decrepit doorframe. He was a strong-armed man in his forties, aging lines and a thick goatee, tan skin and chocolate colored hair ponytail—or wolf's tail as he and his son referred to it as—that ran in the family and entirety of District 9. "Ironic, considering you're hung-over now."

"Fuck off dad… And you're hung over more than me," Sokka quipped.

"I deserve to be. I support this family."

"The fuck you don't Dad. I have a job and I feed the family. You spend the money on your booze!" Sokka's temper finally flared. He usually considered himself a collected person but his father's selfishness always got under his skin.

"You little shit…" He was interrupted by a blatant middle finger in his direction. In a drunken rage, he dropped his beer and charged at his seventeen year-old son when Katara intercepted his route. She held him back with two fistfuls of his beer-stained shirt, before his open palm came down on her face and she felt the numbing sting on her cheek. "Out of my way you little whore" Hakoda berated through gritted teeth as he tossed his smaller-framed daughter to the side like a ragdoll and continued barreling towards Sokka. Katara slammed hard against the bathroom cabinet, knocking the door off the hinge, and slumped to the floor.

Sokka shot up from his recumbent position and unrestrained fire flared from his outstretched hands. He let loose a guttural roar and bonfire erupted from his mouth and the fear was almost palpable in his father's eyes. Firebending felt so natural to Sokka, like an internal flame or anger that could erupt when aggravated. Yet if left uncontained, it could burn everything down. "How dare you abuse your daughter like that? You're a horrible human being!" Sokka annunciated each word, with flames growing more uncontrollable and scorching the wall.

"How dare you firebend in my house, you freak." It felt like a slap across the face. His dad had always looked down on him for possessing this rare talent. Waterbenders were rare and illegal enough in District 9, but firebending was unheard of and thus he had to keep it under wraps. It was genetics gone wrong because not one person in his family had possessed the same ability. Being called a freak, despite never wanting this skill in the first place, made him feel less than normal and the fact that his father despised him felt like a sword thrust through his heart. "You're mother died keeping your ability a secret. She took the blame for evil little skill and was executed in front of my eyes for something she didn't do."

"You think I chose this dad? Do you honestly think I'm happy hiding this every day? Huh, Dad?" Sokka's shouting brought Katara back to consciousness and she held onto the counter as she tried to stand up. Sokka rushed to help bring her to a stand before turning back on his dad. "Because I don't. I wish I couldn't firebend, life would be so much easier."

"Shout it from the hilltops, why don't you. Let the whole District know you're a firebending demon." In fact, the shouting was worsening Sokka's headache. Hakoda turned on his heels, content after scolding his nuisance of a son, before stopping in the doorway and uttering, "You don't deserve to be alive. Your mother should be here instead of you."

At that statement, Sokka's inner fire erupted and he sprinted at his unaware father. Shoulder clashed against back as Hakoda's son tackled him through the drywall into the next bedroom. Sokka quickly scrambled to his feet, dragging Hakoda up with a tight grip on his collar, and slamming the abusive man against a section of unbroken wall. Sokka's face was a hair's length from Hakoda's. "No Dad, you don't deserve to live. You're a good for nothing drunk that harms his children." Sokka had loathed his father for many years and wanted to finally end his sorry excuse for a life. _No, I must show mercy. I must be the bigger man than him._

Katara rushed in through the hole in the wall and tore Sokka from the older man, effectively ending the scuffle. "Stop it stop it stop it!" Katara reprimanded both family members for their willingness to harm each other. Katara placed her hand on her father's back and guided him to the door, evidently getting him as far away from his son as possible. "Dad, how about you go make some breakfast? I'm personally famished," Katara suggesting eagerly, hoping Hakoda took the hint. "I need to have a talk with Sokka."

Sokka mumbled back a response along the lines that she wasn't his mother, though they both knew she sure filled the role spectacularly. Katara puffed out her lower lip, pleading for her dad to be mature and leave the vicinity. As if on cue, he trudged out of the room, drywall dust on his back with several small cuts and disheveled hair.

A brief awkward silence took place before Katara scolded her older brother, both fully expecting the figurative shit-storm to hit hard. Katara massaged the spot where her head collided with the wooden cabinet as both waited for Hakoda to be out of earshot. When their father's grumbling and verbally pained steps disappeared into the kitchen, she turned on Sokka.

"Sokka, why must you aggravate him like that? You could have been the bigger man and walked away." Gentle words, not those of high-toned shouting or scolding. Yet, the disappointment she expressed was nearly palpable, which hurt him more than being angrily chewed out ever would. "Why must you start a fight you're perfectly capable of avoiding in the first place? It hurts me… It truly hurts me to see you two divided and at each other's throats constantly." Sokka's head was bowed in shame yet raised it when he heard his sister sniffle. Hands still hot from summoning flames, reached up and wiped the running tears away. "Have you stopped to think how it affects me that my only family despises each other and I'm left here trying to keep it t-together..." Katara's rant was reduced to unintelligible sentences as she sobbed into her brother's shoulder; he was forever Katara's rock, her shoulder to lean on. Sokka glance up to the wall, seeing patches of pulverized wall where his father had thrown him up against or slash marks from drunkenly swinging his boomerang at his only son. _That is why 'Tara… The fact that he tries to fatally harm his children is why._

The nausea and the pounding in his head had slowly ebbed away as a need to comfort his sister kicked away. Back sliding down the unmarred section of the wall, Sokka slowly lowered his sister to the floor along with himself and hugged her tightly to his chest. "I know 'Tara… I know…" Sokka trailed off as he soothingly shushed her and planted light, brotherly kisses atop her head. "Mom's death should have brought the family closer." He bit his bottom lip, holding back tears of his own. He had to be strong for his sister's sake. "Instead it tore us farther apart." He was met with only a slight nod. "Y'know, sometimes I lay awake at night seeing mom lashed in front of the town, made a mockery of, over and over again and know I'm the reason she's dead. She was a saint, and absolute saint. I deserved it, not her. But you might have been too young to remember." He laughed embarrassedly after confessing. It was nothing to be ashamed of, especially around the one person he could spill all secrets to, yet he felt odd remembering the gory events twelve years in the past while sleep evaded him. Most people blocked those moments out. Oh Spirts, how he wished the memory could be erased. But alas, it haunted him. "You remind me of her 'Tara. So kind-hearted and out-going, so selfless and motherly… she and you are the closest things to a pure soul on this Earth."

"Sokka, I don't remember mom…" She lifted her head from his chest, uncovering tearstains on his sweater, leaning her bruised head against the wall. She hand instinctively embraced his. They had gotten through life's hardships together and they would continue to do so. "All I know of her is her beauty through the pictures. All I know is dad and you loved her so very much… but I'll never have a mother to love."

"I did love her. She was the greatest person I've known and she paid the ultimate sacrifice for me." Sokka languidly raked fingers through his saddened sister's hair, comforting her in a time of sorrow. "I'm sorry you never met her 'Tara. I truly am. But the one thing I've learned is that you only need a single loved one to make this brutal life all worth it. You've done that for me when Dad didn't and I can only hope I do the same for you."

"You have Sokka. You've been the greatest person you possibly could to me. Dad may not see it, or respect us, but we only need each other."

Silence ensued, where Katara tried to relive any memories pertaining to her deceased mother and Sokka reflected on his last moments with her. "Y'know, she told me I was destined for greatness as those evil people ripped her from her family and home. She didn't beg for her life or tell them the truth. No, she paid with her life to ensure my safety. What have I done to repay her? Poach animals and do practically any illegal thing that come to mind. Do you think she watches happily from the Spirit World?" No answer. "She doesn't."

"Sokka you're too hard on yourself. You do everything for this family. You feed this family, illegally or not. It's done with good intentions because you're no criminal. And you act the father when ours is too immature." She lifted Sokka's downcast chin, her thumb nestled in his sprouting goatee, catching his eyes with those of her own. "Don't beat yourself up. No one is perfect, but you're damn near it." In the rare times Katara did cuss, her brother knew she was being completely serious.

"Good intentions or not, it's still illegal." Sokka didn't appreciate praise from others because only his own judgment wasn't biased. People like Katara deluded his mind with false accolades while people like Zhen, a cruel girl who he all but assumed her life goal was to make his living hell, endeavored to bash his esteem. "You're closer to perfect than I am." He lazily twiddled strands of Katara's hair with his fingers, still holding her close with the other arm. "I'm truly proud of you 'Tara. You could've turned out a mess with the lack of decent parenting in your life yet you're a greater person than all I know."

"It's only because I've had the greatest brother to guide me every step of the way…" Yet again, she exalted him. He was her role model I life and best friend.

"And you'll always have me there…"

"I love you so much Sokka."

"And I love you. You deserve to live in a better and less cruel world. Rumor has it that people lived free of the Capitol's rule and weren't holed up in these shitty 'Districts' before the Pyrrhic War." The War was a nuclear showdown between the former Earth Kingdom, Air Temple Empire, and Water Tribes against the Fire Nation that left much of the uninhabitable. The Capitol taught their citizens that they are truly lucky to live in the Districts, safe from the contaminated lands. "How I would love to live free of this prison camp they call District 9… I practically do it half the time anyway. I wish we could burn the Capitol and its rule to the ground and instead live in freedom. The 'safe haven we live in while surrounded by radioactive wasteland' is probably straight up bullshit. I mean, who really knows what's outside their District from what the eye can see?" Sokka peeked over to see Katara, eyes glued shut and breathing lightly, asleep on his shoulder. She had apparently drifted off during his anti-Capitol rant.

He had been so hung-over and preoccupied with his sickness and furtherly drunk father that it had slipped his mind that his sister had stayed up most of the night babysitting the drunk males and practicing her waterbending, which she also kept from public knowledge, when it was at its strongest during the moonlight. She was sleep deprived and he didn't blame her for dozing off at an inconvenient time.

Following a light chuckle, he wriggled free of the weight from Katara's head and gently slung her over his shoulder. Pushing of with his legs, he carried her to the door, where he had to support his sister with one hand and pull the doorknob with the other. "Damn, you're heavier than you look 'Tara," Sokka groaned, majorly encumbered by sister clinging on to him in deep sleep.

He led himself into her bedroom, caringly laid her down on the bed, and threw a blue quilt that was knit by their Gran-Gran over her napping body. He strolled over to the door, giving one last glance inside the room, before shutting the door and going into the kitchen. He passed his father, who slept face down and snoring gruffly on the animal-skin couch.

He scribbled a quick note informing his sister on his whereabouts, threw on a wool parka, and slipped out the door only to be blasted in the face by the blisteringly cold South Pole wind. Flurries obscured the vast ocean that lay in front the city and mostly hid the Snowcap Mountains that pinned District 9 against the coast. Sokka leisurely strolled into the heavy blizzard, unready for the hectic day that was unknowingly shaping up before him.

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><p><strong>I hate making Hakoda the mean father because he's a cool guy in the cartoons. Unfortunately, this personality serves to help the plot and express Sokka's emotions. Please, hit me with all your criticism.<strong>

**Signing out,**

**ChronicChamp**


	2. Persona Grata

**Without further ado, Chapter Two is finally up, featuring Lu Ten's POV. He's has very little written about him and because nothing is known about is personality, I found that I could shape his personality into whatever I desire... hehehe. But in all seriousness, he will become a major plot character along with Sokka and a few others. So go ahead and read if you dare...**

**Disclaimer: All characters and themes belong to either Bryke or Suzanne Collins.**

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><p><strong>Lu Ten<strong>

**Capital – Fire Nation**

Lu Ten sat cross-legged on a cushion, facing the short tea table with war maps and kettles strewn across, loosely paying attention to the discussion of matters pertaining to guerilla warfare waged against the Fire Nation from District 6. Instead, he focused himself on the steaming cup of Jasmine tea resting in his hands as his ears picked up the title of another rebellious and equally enigmatic bunch called the 'White Lotus'. Apparently the rebel group had ransacked a District 6 Police precinct of all its weapons, toppled the honorary statue of the Fire Lord, and posted flyers calling 'down with the tyrant' all over the Districts.

The black-haired teenager didn't quite understand how Fire Lord Azulon, supreme ruler in the Capital and all the Districts under its rule, could tolerate sitting on the Royal Throne surrounded by sweltering flames and shrouded in the indoor darkness. Lu Ten supposed he would he would have to acclimate himself to the eerie room, with a low ceiling and heavily adorned wooden columns, considering he was third in line to becoming Fire Lord.

"Dear cousin, what do you suppose we should do in retaliation?" She made him feel like the deer in the headlights. Azula gave him that habitual, confident smirk that would have been interpreted as a loving smile by all others, yet he knew the expression showed she was wallowing in his predicament after catching him drifting to Cloud Nine.

He cleared his throat. "I suggest that we don't respond with full force or execute them publicly. It will only make us seem like the enemy to all of District 6." _Checkmate. _He effectively wiped that sly look off her face after pulling a sufficient response out of thin air. "Instead, we should bring these criminals to justice or eliminate them out of public eye." Personally, he couldn't blame people for revolting under the tyranny of Azulon. He secretly awaited his father, Iroh or Dragon of the West, to ascend to the throne and abolish the radical regime crafted by the Fire Lords before him.

"If it was my decision, I would wipe these goons of the face of the Earth." She sat with her back straight and lips curled slightly upwards, voicing her thoughts with eloquence and confidence. Her posture and predilections exemplified royalty perfectly; she was one to flaunt her noble upbringing if the opportunity rose.

"But it's not your decision," Zuko dully noted; he was the epitome of blasé.

"You seem to forget your punishment for speaking out of turn at your last war meeting." Azula made the low blow, as bashing Zuko's self-esteem was her favorite hobby. Of course Zuko remembered the punishment—it was burned permanently on the left side of his face. How could he forget his own father laying flames to his face?

Azula continued as if the brief sibling conflict never happened, "Our public image is irrelevant. For a long time, the Districts have hated us, calling us Vaatu's minions or demons for holding the Grand Attrition. Every year, groups rise up around this time and condemn us as miscreants and wicked. But we know the truth." With a dramatic pause, Azula's eyes contently searched the table to see everyone but three people hanging onto her words: General Iroh, the brooding Zuko, and Lu Ten. "It's merely retribution. Not so long ago, the Districts attacked us when we were more than generous to them and killed our children. Our hard-working men and women, our innocent mothers and fathers. They massacred our soldiers by the thousands." Azulon nodded approvingly at her every word. Only a select few had the sense to realize how much of a sycophant she really was. For as long as Lu Ten could remember, she had brownnosed the Fire Lord into giving her favoritism.

"With your youth comes a lack of caution," Iroh said in between sips of his tea. "The Districts don't see it as retribution but instead genocide of their children. Attacking a small group of vandals would give them more of a reason to despise us. And that kind of fueled rage leads to rebellion. This so called Order of the White Lotus will disappear after the Grand Attrition, as all rebel groups flame out quicker than they rose."

"All the tea you have drank must be clouding your mind, old man." Indeed. All the tea kettles were hoarded in front of Iroh, who simply chuckled when his age was insulted instead of feeling ashamed. _Does the man have any pride_?

"Perhaps, child."

"You're the Dragon of the West. You're the renowned general famous for sacking Ba Sing Se and Republic City, the two biggest cities in the world, without mercy." She slammed her palms against the mahogany table, rattling the china and other objects, seething at her uncle. "But now you think it's an advisable option to let these criminals off the hook? You think we shouldn't respond to this treason and not make them receive the same law and order others have received countless times? Because not responding to rebellion is the sole reason the Fire Nation of the past collapsed. They had all their might and chose not to you use it… that was their downfall."

All eyes were on the sole female in the room: most baffled by the conflict or ashamed of her outburst, while only Iroh seemed collected. "War and politics are two very different things, my dear niece. War requires mostly brute strength and wit while politics needs calculation and intelligence. But you'll learn this in due time."

"Aren't wit and calculation and intelligence all the same?" Azula's brow rose, believing she had caught him in the mousetrap.

"Not at all. They all are some sort of wisdom, but that's where the similarities end. Wit is cunning in a specific instance, such as a saber-tooth mooselion hunting and cornering prey with its wolf pack. Calculation is meticulously scrutinizing the situation to turn the odds in your favor. Your great grandfather Sozin won a battle, despite being outnumbered, because he used the downhill wind draft and height advantage to set his enemies ablaze. And intelligence is…"

"I've had enough of your lengthy anecdotes Uncle," Azula interrupted.

"Bitch," Lu Ten muttered under his breath.

"Azula, silence!" Her father, Ozai, commanded. "Your uncle doesn't deserve that kind of disrespect."

"Yes father."

Azula saw the light smirk Lu Ten cast in her direction and rolled her eyes before settling her hands on her lap, returning her attention as the elderly Fire Lord spoke up. "Any other suggestions on how we handle The Order of the White Lotus?" Due to the fact of Azulon's rapid ascendance to senility, he turned to his highest officials and right-hand-men to majorly assist him in decision-making. Thus, the Capitol's power was slightly deteriorating.

High General Bujing answered first. "If I may?" He stepped off his cushion and bowed to the floor, awaiting the Fire Lord's confirmation.

"Permission to speak is granted." The middle-aged man stood, his prominent goatee and pointed moustache hanging to his shoulders while his gray hair was tied back—as was all the other high ranking official.

Bujing stood high above all the sitting figures, whose eyes and ears intently followed him. "I firmly believe that we squash these criminals who disrespect the glorious Capital with vandalism." A quick bow and he seated himself again.

General Mung—a stocky man with a dark, bushy mutton chops beard and his hair tied back in a ponytail, showing his wrinkled forehead—began to bow when he was impatiently ushered to sit back down by Azulon. Clearing his throat, he seconded Bujing's opinion. "I also believe we should take them out with full force before they start vandalizing my hydroelectric plants and factories in District 6."

The musical chairs charade continued when Mongke, the thick-armed leader of the freelance group Rough Rhinos and personal bounty hunter to Azulon, chimed in. "I will permanently vanquish this evil if you it so pleases you."

"I will keep that offer in mind," Azulon pursed his lips and gestured to The Warden, the head honcho of the prison District 2, previously named the Boiling Rock.

The ugly man, with a wrinkled face, fat lips, and long, stringy hair, stood with arms folded behind his back when addressing the Fire Lord. "The rebels should be brought to justice and rightfully imprisoned. Not hunted down and butchered for hanging pointless propaganda around the District. And we have more than enough room at Boiling Rock for workers.

General Shinu and Zhao both nodded in agreement, marking the first time in a while they came to agreement.

The Fire Lord signaled The Warden to take his seat and came to his decision, forgoing the opinion of Ozai, brother to Iroh and father of both Azula and Zuko. "The matter seems to be settled. We'll leave it in District 6's power to catch these criminals." He yawned, slouching tiredly against the armrest of his golden throne. The yawning went around the table, seemingly contagious. Sitting up, Azulon signaled to his bodyguards hidden in the dark to come to his side as he slowly lifted himself from the heavily adorned cathedra. "Meeting adjourned."

The room was filled with the sound of sudden shuffling as servants moved to clean the table and nobles made way to the oak door. But none reached the exit faster than Azula, who barricaded the door with outstretched arms. "This is outrageous. Absolutely outrageous!"

Zuko stopped in front of his sister, glaring intimidatingly as hands rested on his hips. "Move 'Zula."

She stood steadfast.

"The Fire Nation was built on and is unified by our lack of mercy and the sense of fear that keeps the Districts suppressed. But you betrayed that. It brings to question if you're still worthy of being Fire Lord. Or are you a shriveled up old man incapable of this job?

"Azula, stop this behavior this instance," Ozai scolded is own daughter. She was harming her reputation and his as a father.

"Do you dare question my rule?" Azulan annunciated each word, embers dancing from angrily trembling fingers. The generals that had been tired and awaiting their beds a moment before perked their heads up.

"Did you just hear what I said? Or are you too senile to where your hearing has gone along with your ability to rule?" The Fire Lord snarled as Ozai took his daughter by the wrist and tried to drag her out of the room before it escalated more.

"Do you desire a punishment as severe as your brother's?"

"I desire a competent leader."

"Father, this is not how I raised my daughter to act like. I will make sure she's punished so that this will never happen again." Ozai apologized through gritted teeth, as he finally tugged Azula from her rigid stance. "Perhaps an Agni Kai is necessary to reclaim your honor that she so rudely called to question."

Lu Ten saw the true motive in that offer. Everyone in the room was positive Azula would be the victor of a death match between the two firebenders, after all she was a prodigy who had skill unrivaled in the past century. If Azula slayed the Fire Lord, that left Iroh as the sole obstacle to Ozai acquiring the throne; the position he desired more than any other earthly possession.

Apparently Iroh also saw through the smokescreen, as he offered farfetched explanations to Azula's behavior. "Forgive her Father. It's tough on a teenager to be holed up and forced to sit still at a war meeting for the whole day. She's merely getting irratible, which a cup of Jasmine tea and a long rest would surely solve." Iroh nodded wildly, using all his power to help Azulon regain his composure.

"I should be in charge of the punishment. After all, she's insulted me by portraying me as a bad father." Ozai nervously proposed to the simmering Fire Lord.

"Can I trust you to make it a fair discipline?" Azulon seemed to deflate, knowing Azula's tantrum would be solved rightfully.

"You can count on it." Ozai's confirmation sent chills down Lu Ten's spine. Somehow, he knew either Ozai or his daughter would benefit from the situation. "I'll make it my priority to show her how she is getting off lightly."

Wanting to avoid any more conflict, everyone dismissed themselves silently to their rooms except for Lu Ten, who stood staring into the Throne Room. _It's a simple chair, yet whoever sits upon it has all the power in the world. Someday soon, a moral man or woman will sit there and abolish the rule of the Capital over the Districts._

He then turned on his heels and maneuvered to his room, boots clapping against the tile floor in the dark of the night and mind deep in thought._ I just hope tomorrow is a lot less hectic._

Little did he know that the next day would be the most hectic day of his life…

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><p><strong>Good or nah? You tell me, as all criticism is very appreciated. A little off topic but who do you see as Sokka's best significant other: Suki, Yue, Ty Lee, Toph, or Azula? I personally find bits and pieces from each pairing, even Tokka (which is a little creepy due to the age difference, that I appreciate. Input may matter, considering all those characters will be Tributes in the Grand Attrition (my knockoff name for the Hunger Games in my story), as Sokka will eventually have a love interest. In hindsight, Sokka and Katara seem to have a relationship that seems a little bit 'more romantic' than siblings should but that is not the case. They are merely brother and sister who care deeply about each other. Signing off, my fellow Avatar: Last Airbender fanatics. <strong>


	3. Death Sentence?

**Valentines Day post!**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creator of Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

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><p><strong>Lu Ten<strong>

**Capital – Fire Nation**

Whereas waterbenders were most lethal when the moon shone, firebenders rose with the sun; Lu Ten was no exception. He tossed the bed sheets to the side and spread-eagled on the large four-poster bed, basking in the warming light streaming through the gaps in the curtains. After a fit of yawning passed, a smile suddenly spread across his face as he didn't have to attend a war meeting. However, the thought turned bittersweet upon realizing there was still the very slight possibility that he could be selected at the Reaping that day. This was Lu Ten's last year of eligibility to be chosen as a Tribute.

Personally, he didn't understand why teenagers from the Capital were thrown into bloodshed—in fact he didn't understand why any kids were pinned against each other in the name of revenge—when the intention was to punish the Districts.

He let the negative thinking slip into the void as he slipped into a red kimono with golden trim, left for him courtesy of the Royal Castle's maids, and tied his stringy hair in a topknot, accentuating his strong jaw and dark brows. Zuko and Azula, Iroh, and other members of the Fire Nation monarchy not so secretly disdained him for the obsidian, overgrown sideburns that stretched to his chin; though none would insult the Crown Prince to his face.

Servants rushed into the room upon hearing his motions from outside the two-story bedroom and assisted on grooming him for the Reaping, as if it was day to celebrate. They tied a red sash around his waist, embroidered with a golden dragon that glistened in the sunlight; pulled on the kimono until it fit his muscular body, crafted and chiseled out through years of intense and dangerous firebending techniques, to their liking; swiftly combed his hair and readjusted his sloppily tied topknot, tugging harshly on his scalp and eliciting a pained groan; laced his tigerdillo fur slippers, an item no average citizen of the Districts could even hope to procure; and hung ceremonial pendants around his neck.

Lu Ten was abruptly ushered out of the way, catching a comment about his tardiness from one the female servants bustling around his room. He proceeded to descend the stairs with hands following the metal banister shaped to resemble a slithering dragon, the sacred creature and national creature of the Capital, reaching the intricately tiled floor of the sublevel and hurrying to a dresser, where his eyes gazed over a dagger; the gift from his father had never ceased to amaze him.

Meddlesome and curious hands tentatively lifted the blade from the dresser and unsheathed the lustrous weapon. The sound of the bloodthirsty steel sliding free from containment was music to his ears.

'_Never back down without a fight_' was inscribed at the base of the blade in small font.

He imprisoned the dagger, ignoring its almost palpable pleas to be used on the battlefield instead of being stowed away, and tucked it in between the folds of his clothing before scuttling out the grand door, which slammed shut behind him. Apparently the servants were irritable today.

Toned legs, clothed in the kimono that lightly dragged across the black marble floor, carried the Prince of the Fire Nation to the atrium of the Royal Palace, which was jam-packed with royalty and commoners alike. Discerning eyes quickly scoped out the Fire Lord and the highest of nobles' location at the podium overlooking all the people in the ballroom, to where he dodged to and fro through the hectic crowd to reach.

Ascending the marble steps, sandals clacking against the ornate marble, he took a spot between Zuko, who readily welcomed one of his few kin that he could respect, and Azula, who didn't even acknowledge his presence as she menacingly smirked in the direction of the human horde.

Folding his arms behind his back and lifting his chin to show prestige and boldness, one of many postures hammered into his mind during his days at the Royal Academy, he stood statuesque as Ozai ushered the audience into silence; Azulon was far too old and exhausted to shush the crowd and Ozai was easily capable of puppeteering the masses like a string on his finger… some even believed he was slated to take the throne over Iroh, peacefully or forcefully.

Ozai held one arm out in front of him, inches from his hip, as the other waved towards the congregation before him. Once satisfied with the lessened volume, he cleared his throat and began to mastermind the people with words as sly as a weasel. "Welcome, welcome everyone. On behalf of the Fire Lord, we are truly honored to see you all here for the beginning of the 40th annual Reaping." The crowd came to life before Lu Ten, roaring approvingly and whistling to the speaker. "Today brings forth memories, good and the bad. Good in that today marks FOUR DECADES since the Districts committed treason and revolted against US, their generous government, and were barely quelled. We extinguished the same people who massacred our soldiers, honorary men and women who died for their country and their families, who will never see their faces again. These rebels stripped mothers and fathers from their children, showing the true side of humanity." Ozai clutched his heart, pretending to be heartbroken over people lost before he was even born—as if the Districts didn't suffer as many casualties—and wiped feigned tears from his eyes. Lu Ten was impressed at the man's acting skills, yet he knew the devil that lay below the bonhomous façade displayed to the world. He basked in the standing ovation, pretending to regain his poise. "Forty years ago we triumphed this great evil! Today marks the day when the Districts experience the same pain of losing loved ones! Each year, we get to experience this small amount of closure for the District's actions. They vilified and slaughtered, raped and ransacked, robbed and orphaned the people of the Capital. Through the Grand Attrition, we avenge the lost lives of our children all those years ago!" A deafening chorus of applause and cheering followed. After officially riling up the constituents, Ozai backpedalled two steps and gave a slight bow and handed over the limelight to the Fire Lord.

He was eating up all the attention he could get, like a famished tigerdillo. Lu Ten wished he was this passionate and able to sway a crowd without this little effort. Heck, Ozai hadn't made premade a script and was winging it in front of the nobles… to great success.

Azulon shambled up to front of the stage, flanked by bodyguards on either side. He broke into a coughing fit, body violently heaving as his aged lungs begged for airs, basically advertising to everyone that he was near the end of his life. The people went silent and watched for a few seconds before the hacking subsided, and the hunchbacked man spoke to them.

"Give a special applause to my dear son, Ozai, for his tremendous speech. Took the words right from my mouth…" The man started to weakly chuckle at his pathetic joke before it turned to fatigued wheezing. "That leaves me with nothing else to address. So without further ado, let the Reaping commence." Upon his final words, the massive gates to the palace swung open and the audience shuffled around, forming a straight path so that the Fire Lord and his kinsmen could exit.

Azulon's bodyguards, clad in metal plated armor with red-rimmed and jagged edges, escorted the almighty man down the aisle, keeping a hand on the rapiers hanging at their belts in case if any threat against the Fire Lord's life arose. Ozai, Iroh, and their children filed in respectively. Ursa, mother to Zuko and husband to Ozai, split away from the crowd and walked abreast to her husband. Lu Ten had to admit his aunt was stunning, garbed in a maroon gown with her long braid swung over her left shoulder and resting beside her heavily exposed cleavage.

As Lu Ten neared the entrance and his sight line finally cleared the heads of everyone in the outside crowd, the sprawling landscape of the Capital unfolded before him. Glittering skyscrapers and bustling highways rose above the lush, green canopy. Downtown, including the Royal Palace, was situated inside the crater of a long extinct volcano while the slums and less friendly sides of the city crept up the slopes of the mountain—built perilously around deep crags, frequently erupting geysers, and steep precipices. The colossal statues of previous Fire Lords standing at the peak, only seen when Lu Ten squinted his eyes, overlooked the entire city and imposed a sense of order and fear to the citizens. This metropolis was the crown jewel of the world, an unrivaled leader in wealth, fashion, and power.

The Royal Procession trekked through the courtyard towards the group of palanquin bearers waiting to carry the royalty to their destination. Azulon, Azula, and Ursa opted to take the relaxing route by sitting on their palanquin, a four-poster carriage with concealing curtains that was hoisted up and carried around by slaves so that the nobles received maximum comfort, while the men walked alongside the Fire Lord's transport.

The navigated through an avenue of menacing Special Forces soldiers, who kept the overly excited crowd at bay with assault rifles hanging from slings around their soldiers. Lu Ten and Zuko, the precious first-born sons to the to the Fire Lord's own male children, led the march a few yards ahead of Azulon's palanquin when they were met by flag bearers and the banners were forked over to their possession: Zuko, awkwardly carried a banner with a three-pronged, magenta flame surrounded by a black backdrop and twelve gold stars that represented each District while Lu Ten, who raised a flag of a golden dragon-the Coat of Arms of the Fire Nation-high in the sky.

They both stepped the edge of the balcony straight ahead of them and waived the banners in circular motions to the plaza directly below which was filled to the brim with the Capital's hundreds of thousands of teenage civilians, who were trained in combat and willing to fight in the Grand Attrition. No wonder Tributes from the Capital won a majority of the time. The adolescents excitedly cheered upon seeing Zuko and Lu Ten step forward, for they actually enjoyed competing in the massacre, as opposed to children from the Districts.

Palanquin bearers carefully set the transports down and retreated away from the public eye. Azulon swung the curtains to the side and gingerly stepped down from the carriage, raising a leathery hand and waving to the onlookers.

He shook hands with emaciated young woman with curves in all the right places, plastic surgery Lu Ten guessed, yet the enhanced chest didn't match her thin frame. Coupled with a black corset, pushing up her ill-fitted breasts and contracting her already unnatural waist, with gold laces crisscrossing her stomach; a maroon skirt, resting at the middle of her pale thighs; black stilettos, elevating the lanky woman higher off the ground, which clapped monotonously against the cobblestone; and an intricate pattern of cerulean and garnet strands of hair woven together to form a braid that reached to her lower back, she served to show the strange fashion sense in the Capital with an unspoken rule that one must wear as many contrasting colors as possible.

She handed him a microphone, pecked him on both cheeks, gave an expert curtsy, and receded from the spotlight to where she idly played with her locks of hairs as the Fire Lord beckoned out to the crowd. "Hello, hello everyone. Give a special thanks to my lovely assistant, Izuma." He gestured to the young woman, who gave a meek wave to all those down below. "I am honored that all of you could come celebrate the Capital's greatest tradition with us today."

_As if they had a choice, _Lu Ten retorted mentally.

"Today marks the fortieth anniversary of the Reaping and the Grand Attrition. Forty years of Tributes from the Capital proving their superiority and might. And this year will be no exception." Judging by the sudden hurrahs, the plaza full of teenagers completely agreed. "Are we ready?" An immense choir of voices gave affirmation. Azulon nodded gleefully, content that his citizens were riled up. "I will delay you no longer."

The microphone was handed back to Izuma as the LED television flashed to life behind her, displaying the Grand Attrition logo—a rough fist thrusting a bloodied sword sky high surrounded by a stars that represented all twenty-four Tributes who would compete. The first timers oohed and aahed at the screen, marvelous in both sheer size and clarity. "Is one of you ready to become the Capital's next Victor?" She pointed out towards the lively crowd, which roared in confirmation. She paced around the balcony, getting excited with the mass of teenagers, and gazed out into the endless sea of kids—one of which was certain to die. "Because I sure am." She lied through her teeth. Every year she visited the Capital and picked two kids randomly to compete, practically giving them a death sentence and sending them to their impending doom. Each time she had to put on an energetic poker face when in reality it destroyed her on the inside. Eventually she had learned to block out the misery brought on by meeting new kids every year and then seeing taken in the Spirit of Death's irreversible clutches.

"You guys all know the drill. We have a randomized system that selects a Tribute without any tampering or bias. The more ballots you entered, the more likely you are to be chosen. The ages of eligibility are between 10 and 18. The male Tribute will be picked first with the female following immediately after. Any person that is also eligible to compete and of the same gender can take the place of the person picked as Tribute with their consent. Any questions?" Of course not… children had been raised fearing and understanding the Reaping in great detail. "Then let the Reaping commence." Her heart sank in her chest; a child was about to get a one-way ticket to the Spirit World. "_May the odds ever be in your favor_." Oh, how she hated that mantra. If odds were in favor of a teenager from the Capital, it meant the other twenty-three Tributes weren't so lucky.

She gestured towards the screen and males' faces began to rapidly flash by on the screen—as if it was a digital spinning roulette wheel with quick beeps—signifying the commencement of the Reaping. Lu Ten's eyes perused the oscillating pictures and tried to pick out a familiar face, yet the images oscillated too fast for him to even pick out a single face. One seconds, two seconds, three seconds passed as the changing of images slowed. Lu Ten became antsy, as did the crowd, because the male was seconds away from being chosen at random. The dinging slowed as the frame settled on the unlucky person: the Capital's own noble, Lu Ten.

The whole plaza's simultaneously gasped, except for he himself and his father, Iroh. The people of the Capital greatly respected the particular member of the Royal Family and were crestfallen to see that he was going to be shipped off to suffer in the Grand Attrition. No one paid attention to the banner falling from Lu Ten's hands in shock, a usually treasonous action.

Lu Ten had frozen in his spot and his heart dropped in his chest. He was oblivious to the pompous and delighted looks on Ozai and Azula's faces; the two schemers could now rest assured there was the possibility that one of the obstacles in their path to the throne could be eliminated without their involvement. He was oblivious to his father's downcast expression, who collapsed to his knees and openly weeped to the fact that his only son could feasibly join his deceased wife in the Spirit World. He was oblivious to masses that silently mourned for him, their treasured Prince, even if he wasn't guaranteed to die. The only thing he wasn't oblivious to was the way his own body reacted. He was completely aware of his heart pounding profusely in his chest, throbbing in his ears and masking all the noise around him; blood turning stone-cold, his trembling fingers going pale; and the words repeating over and over in his head. _Why me? Why did it have to be me? _

The irony hit like a cold-hearted slap across the face… this was his last year of eligibility to be selected before living safe from the bloodshed for the rest of his life but he was still chosen against all odds. He had almost escaped the Reaping forever, yet karma's cruel clutches had metaphorically caught him by a hair's length and dragged him down in the end. Of the tens of thousands of males, he was the one sentenced to fight to the death. He wondered which spirit he had disrespected to receive this punishment. Karma wasn't prejudiced. Not even the Crown Prince or the richest person was exempt from its harsh penance. They were all cast to the ground without heed, dirt poor and bountiful sharing the suffering.

Izuma tried to formulate any excuses to pull Lu Ten from the massacre but to no avail. The rules were clear and he could only escape by way of someone voluntarily taking his spot. "O-Our male Victor will be our very own Crown Prince, Lu Ten, unless someone cares to take his position." She started sweating bullets, desperately hoping someone would put their life before Lu Ten, a boy who she truly respected. "This would be a true act of valor if one of you stepped up and put your life in danger for that of our dear Prince. Your sacrifice would show your unfettered love for the Capital."

Thousands of male hands thrust into the air, ready to willingly put themselves in danger to save Lu Ten's skin, but none higher than his own father. "I volunteer. I volunteer for Tribute." Iroh declared in a brittle voice, clearly strained by his sorrow and crying. The attention of the whole Capital turned to the aged, stocky man who stepped forward. "I will not let my child go through with this."

"Prince Iroh, I respect your courage and the love you express by protecting your child but I cannot allow you to volunteer for your child…you are above the age limit." Izuma regretted denied Iroh, although she was pleased to see the massive amounts of people volunteering for Lu Ten. "Any other volunteers willing to come forward?"

"I will." Zuko handed his flag over to Lu Ten before patting him on the shoulder and walking to the end of the balcony. Zuko took a quick glance back at Lu Ten, meeting his woeful eyes, then turned back to the crowd and saying, "I will volunteer for my cousin." He kept the brooding expression on his face—although people that were well acquainted with him could decipher it as a slight smile—as the crowd was thrown another curveball. "He's too good of a person to suffer a fate like this…instead I will atone my past mistakes by competing. I _will _regain the honor I lost." Lu Ten was surprised about Zuko's actions yet also not surprised. For the last few years, Zuko was hell-bent on regaining his honor from when it was lost while speaking out of turn at a war meeting…the same one his father burnt a permanent scar upon his face. "Cousin, do I have your permission to compete in the Grand Attriton in your permission?"

"You _do not_," Lu Ten responded, still quite unsure if he believed in his own words. Both he and the audience were surprised that the words slipped past his lips, although they audibly gasped.

"You never lost honor in my eyes, Zuko. In fact, volunteering shows you have vast amounts of it." Confidence in his words returned as he kept speaking. "I would be losing honor of my own by letting anyone volunteer. I see no honor in letting someone else risk their life for me when I was the one chosen fairly." He nodded furiously to the crowd, trying to reassure them and himself in the process. "As a Prince of the Capital, I must prove my ability by fighting my own battles. If I let someone else die in my place, I wouldn't be a deserving leader." With a hand resting over his heart, he pledged himself to his final decision. "I _will_ compete in the Grand Attrition. I _will_ emerge the Victor. I _will_ prove myself worthy as the heir to the throne. I _will _survive for my glorious Fire Nation and my father."

Lu Ten turned to his father, who wept in disapproval of his son's decision and uncertainty of his fate. "Father," Lu Ten spoke softly, trying to garner the Prince's attention. Iroh raised his head, with tears evidently streaming down his face and worry all but written across his forehead. "I will live through this. I will prove myself as a Prince and your son." Iroh nodded, knowing that his son was one of the best firebenders ever to grace the earth and accepting his son had the best of odds of anyone to win. Yet, it didn't quell his fatherly concern. Lu Ten smiled back, completely confident that the Grand Attrition would be no match for him. "Trust me on this."

Iroh rushed forwards and heartily embraced his son, waiting for several seconds and Lu Ten's desperate complaints of being unable to breathe before contemplating releasing his son from the tight grip. After an onslaught of 'I love you's' from both sides, they stepped back from the manly hug and saluted the citizens.

Izuma stepped up, trying to distract the crowd and leave the two men to their father-son bonding moment. "There you have it, your truly honorable male tribute: Prince Lu Ten." She grabbed his wrist and raised his muscular arm in the air. The crowd erupted in applause and the woman melodramatically bowed several times in each direction after releasing her clasp on him. "The courageous man who won't let others fight and die for his own predicaments. Once he survives, which he most definitely will, he'll become a glorious Fire Lord in his bright future. Give him a round of applause!" The crowd did just that, creating the loudest standing ovation the teenager had ever heard.

Izuma flaunted her curled locks until the obnoxious combination of sounds pacified, upon which she lifted the microphone her cherry red lips and spoke, "Now the female Tribute will be…"

"Actually I have a request to be heard," Ozai audaciously interrupted while beckoning for Izuma to hand the microphone over to him, who nervously bestowed him the object without complaint. "Before I tell you my request, I want to congratulate my nephew and son for showing immense bravery. It takes a true man to put his life before others." Lu Ten, finally broken out of his self-pitying stupor, could tell Ozai's words were as sly and deceitful as a scrounging fire ferret in the streets. Ozai would most definitely be rooting against Lu Ten. "Now on to the main topic. It might not have become knowledge to the public quite yet, but my daughter, Azula, disrespected the Fire Lord at a war meeting. She single-handedly damaged my image and hurt our family's honor." The audience gasped, surprised that Azula, the ideal girl every parent wished their own daughters would emulate, would dare slander her authority. The Capital knew Zuko as the insolent child and Azula as the mannered and elegant child. "I propose that my daughter compete in the Grand Attrition in attempts to repair her personal and family honor she stripped." He ignored Azula's furious protesting.

The crowd immediately booed the courtly man, greatly opposed to it as they pictured the proposition as Ozai being a horrible father, by sacrificing his own royal daughter, and attempting to surrender Azula to her death because of her flippancy. "Does that comply with the rules?" Ozai inquired, the corner of his lips turning upwards slightly.

Izuma was well aware that Ozai was flipping the situation to his benefit—if Azula killed Lu Ten, he would have an easier path to the throne, or if Lu Ten survived, Azula would be dead and Ozai wouldn't have to fear her slitting his own throat—but couldn't deny his request. After all, Azula was eligible to become a Tribute. "I don't see any reason why we couldn't make that work. Are you sure you want you want your daughter to compete…with your own nephew?" She questioned through gritted teeth, appalled that he would readily let one of them die. "One of them will end up dead, y'know?"

"They both have everything to gain from this contest. Lu Ten, my _dear_ nephew, strives to show worthiness for the Throne and Azula hunts after regaining her honor. One will fail in their endeavors while the other will achieve what they sought. If both lose their lives during the Grand Attrition, neither were worthy of what they sought." Ozai elaborated and the booing stopped. He had rationalized his reasons and they believed him, oblivious to the underlying motives that would bring him personal gain. Lu Ten was surprised to the extent of which Ozai had the civilians wrapped around his finger and how he could puppeteer them to the point where they believed in his justification of sacrificing his own family.

"It's final. This year's Tributes are your royal Lu Ten and Azula." Izuma concluded to the crowd, much to her chagrin. "May the odds ever be in their favor," She muttered before dropping the microphone to her hip, pivoting on her heels, and walking off the stage.

The Reaping in the Capital was over.

As if on cue, a berserk Zuko pounced on Lu Ten and chided him for callowness. "Why the fuck did you do that? I was going to take your place and ensure your safety but you did literally the stupidest thing possible. Why Lu Ten, why?"

"Zuko, I saved you because you don't need to fight for me. I can win this by myself." He didn't feel like explaining his reasoning again. Raising a brow, he added, "This will be an excuse to rid the Capital of your evil sister, who's a schemer and a disease and a threat to anyone one who lives. She needs to be taken down and I'll be the one to do it. Plus I'll prove to the world that I'm laudable and deserving of being my father's successor to the throne."

Zuko scowled, still brooding, as he trudged away upon realizing he wasn't going to get a reason he agreed with. Lu Ten sighed, knowing that Zuko would eventually come to see if from his point of view, yet he was still upset that they didn't see eye to eye.

Before he had the chance to turn and walk back to the Royal Palace, Azula approached him with an ominous smile, signifying trouble. "Looks like we'll see each other in the arena."

"Looks like it." Lu Ten disinterestedly responded, as she was the last person he wanted to talk to.

"Y'know, we could work together until we're the last two left." She was on par with her father in terms of ability to manipulate people into thinking what she wanted them to. Her arm surrounded his shoulder as she pulled him close as the cameras flashed at them; she was putting on a loving and friendly façade for the media. "Imagine us as the invincible firebending tandem. Cousins working together to overcome the unsurmountable odds. It would be a story for the ages, wouldn't it Lu Ten?"

"Possibly." He was sending very obvious hints with his one-word answers but she might have chosen to ignore them and focus her attention on annoying her cousin.

"We would make the best alliance in Grand Attrition history." He ignored her honeyed words. They were so sweet and appealing like honey yet undoubtedly held a sour secret beneath. "Do you think we could work together to the end…like family?"

"No." His answer was meant to hit her with as much harshness as possible. "You'll turn on me when I become too comfortable or end up betraying me in the end." With that, he strolled away from Azula before he felt her wrath.

His mind was a mixing pot of emotions and thoughts as he made his way to the Royal Palace, praying for luck in the following days and formulating strategies.

Now it was up to the Reaping in the Districts to pick out his other competition…

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